


Relatively Speaking

by YumYumPM



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 07:07:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1541999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumYumPM/pseuds/YumYumPM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(You take two agents who have lived their lives out of each others pockets and let them retire.  Do they manage to stay connected?  Drawn from the actors lives and embellished, you'll find how it's all relative)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relatively Speaking

The banging on the door and persistent ringing of the doorbell brought Napoleon Solo out of his morose state of mind. It was midday, but the seventy-seven year old man was still in his nightwear. He threw his partially read paper aside and managed to lever himself off the sofa. "I'm coming. I'm coming," he called out loudly. "Who could that be?" he muttered as he padded barefoot toward the front door. 

Standing on his front porch was his former partner, suitcase in hand. 

"I warned you this would happen," Illya Kuryakin groused as he slipped past Napoleon. The two of them had gone back into retirement feeling that U.N.C.L.E., without Alexander Waverly as its head, was no longer the same. They had gone back to their interrupted lives. 

Napoleon sighed. "What does Catherine think about your being here." 

"Who do you think suggested it." 

Catherine was Illya's wife. She had been a model that Illya met shortly after he and Napoleon had finished one last assignment for the U.N.C.L.E. back in 1983 almost twenty years ago. Together they had two children. A son, Petrov, and a daughter, Sophie. Once a year, when things got tense between the two, Catherine would pack Illya's suitcase and send him to Connecticut where Napoleon had a house were they would once again take comfort in each other as they use to do while in the field. 

Napoleon, unfortunately, was not so lucky. He had made three attempts at a happy marriage, none of which had lasted longer than two years. The latest of which had just recently ended. 

Illya dropped his suitcase to the floor and gathered Napoleon into his arms and Napoleon finally let his tears flow. It wasn't long before Napoleon had himself under control and Illya picked up his suitcase, intertwined Napoleon's fingers with his and led him up the stairs to the master bedroom. 

mfu 

The next morning Napoleon woke to an empty bed. He rolled to his side to sit up rather stiffly and moaned as a muscle spasm hit his back. It was hell getting old. He slipped his feet into his slippers and made his way down the stairs. 

The smell of bacon filtered through the house. Bacon was not on his diet, but this was something of a special occasion. He slid into one of the dining chairs. 

"Good morning!" Illya said cheerfully as he served Napoleon his plate. 

Napoleon scowled. How could anyone be so cheerful first thing in the morning. Napoleon stared at his plate in disbelief. He knew he'd smelled bacon and what was on his plate but an egg white omelet, a plain piece of whole wheat toast and half a grapefruit. "Where's the bacon?" he demanded. 

Illya smiled as he slipped the last piece into his mouth. "Drop a few pounds and your cholesterol and then you'll be able to have some." His eyes dancing wickedly with delight as he smacked his lips. 

Napoleon looked so defeated that he gave in and slipped two pieces he'd set aside across to him. "Want to talk about it?" he asked tenderly. 

Napoleon pushed away his plate and shook his head. "Not really. How's the kids?" he asked more to change the subject than anything. 

"We've come to the unfortunate conclusion that Petrov is going to be a career student. He has yet to settle on a major." 

Napoleon smile. That sounded so like Illya's son. All curiosity. Sophie on the other hand, was more focused. She'd made it through college in record time and was already climbing her way up the corporate ladder at the firm she worked at. 

"Sophie, on the other hand, is feeling her biological clock ticking. She wants to have a baby." Illya sighed. 

Napoleon was flabbergasted. "She's only twenty. I thought she was focused on her career. Surely she'll have plenty of time for children later." 

"I haven't told you who she wants for the father," Illya offered. 

"Tell me it's not what's-his-name ... Marco?" Napoleon asked. "I warned you that the man was nothing more then a gigolo and after your money." 

"What money?" Illya asked surprised. He laughed. "No it's not him." Casually he sipped his coffee. "It's you." 

"Me!" Napoleon squawked. "Is she insane? I'm old enough to be her ... uncle." 

"Funny. That's exactly what I said almost word for word," Illya mused. 

"Besides doesn't that border on incestuous?" 

"Catherine may have mentioned that." 

"She can't be serious. You're her father, surely you can talk her out of it?" 

Illya sighed. "I assure you she is serious, deadly serious. Besides this is Sophie we're talking about. I haven't been able to talk her out of anything since she was six. You talk to her." He looked at his watch. "She's going to be here in about thirty minutes. You might want to put some clothes on." 

"What!" 

The look on Napoleon's face had Illya chuckling all the way to the front door. He had no desire to stick around for this little talk. 

Thirty minutes later on the dot, Sophie Kuryakin stalked into the house. One look at her god-father's face told her all she needed to know. 

"I see dad's already broached the subject with you," she said brusquely as she strode into the living room. 

"If you mean that your father told me about this cockamamie scheme of yours. Then yes." 

Sophie started to flop down on the sofa, but remembered that she wanted to impress the future father of her child with her maturity. 

Napoleon sat in the chair furthest away and asked. "What on earth possessed you to want a child? And why me?" 

Sophie folded her hands in her lap and tried to look demure. "My biological clock is ticking and I want to have a child while I'm still young." 

"What's wrong with doing it the old fashion way. You know, finding a guy, marrying him, that kind of thing." 

Sighing, Sophie rolled her eyes. "Number one, it takes too long. I don't want to be in my thirty's when my child is born. Two, the guys I've met aren't ready to settle down and according to mum, they don't make men the way they used to." She looked at him through her eyelashes, just the way Illya sometimes did. "Besides you're smart, good looking, and ..." She got up and slid onto his lap the way she used to when she was little and began playing with his tie. "Daddy's got Pete to pass down the family name. You have no one." 

"Sophie Kuryakin," Napoleon said sternly. "This is a real live being we are talking about. Not one of your dolls." 

"I realize that," Sophie said solemnly. "That's why I've waited until I was financially able to do this. All I need from you is the sperm." 

Napoleon shook his head, he was pretty sure he'd firmly said, "No." 

Sophie put a pout on her pretty face, looked at him through her lashes, lashes that she batted as a tear slipped from her blue eyes. 

With a heavy sigh, Napoleon did the only thing he could do. He said, "Okay." 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Sophie squealed as she peppered his face with kisses, much the way she'd done when she was six and he given her a My Little Pony castle. 

In no time flat Sophie was off his lap and headed out the door calling behind her. "Oh, I've made you an appointment with the fertility clinic. After that I'll be able to let you know when we need your sperm." 

"So how did it go?" Illya called out when he returned one hour later. 

Napoleon remained frozen exactly the way he had been in following Sophie's departure. He looked at his old friend and former lover, his face blank. The last time he felt this way was the night before Illya's wedding when Catherine had asked for tips on how to keep Illya sexually satisfied. Catherine had shocked him by informing him that she knew all about their relationship, which he had thought secret, and had no problems with it. That whatever made Illya happy made her happy. 

He held out the card Sophie had given him and looked at Illya dumbfounded. "I'm going to be a father." 

"How do you think I feel? I'm going to be a grandfather," Illya responded torn between amusement and trepidation. He reached for the card and read clinic - doctor's name - date - time. Everything seemed arranged and Napoleon it appeared was left with no choice in the matter. 

"I'm too old to be a father," whined Napoleon. 

Illya sighed. "Sophie doesn't think so and neither does Catherine." 

mfu 

Ten months to the day, Napoleon Solo paced the waiting room in Lenox Hill Hospital awaiting the birth by C section of his children. He remembered clearly the day many months previously when he had stood on the sidewalk looking up at the glass facade of the fertility clinic. 

"Well, old boy, here we are," Illya said. He was supposed to be there for moral support, but more importantly, to make sure Napoleon did not chicken out. They walked through the door and Napoleon informed the receptionist of his reason for being there. He remembered the indignity of having to endure the pitying looks on the faces of the nurses when he filled out the paperwork. After what seemed to be an inordinate amount of time they were allowed in to see the doctor. 

The doctor was reading from his file, a puzzled look upon his face. "Mr. Solo?" 

Napoleon cleared his throat. "That would be me." 

"And you are?" the doctor's gaze sifted to Illya. 

"I'm the father of the bride, metaphorically speaking." 

Napoleon could only imagine what was going through the doctor's mind. Two elderly men, one of whom was about to donate sperm? Evidently he'd heard it all, because nothing showed on his face. He went over the procedure and what would be required of Napoleon, warning him of not to get his hopes up, because of his age his sperm might not be viable. Then he called in the nurse who showed them into a room and handed Napoleon a cup. To Napoleon's embarrassment she explained in detail what he was expected to do. She also showed him a collection of porn material to help with the process. 

Illya seemed to find the whole process amusing and proved to be no help at all. When the nurse suggested that he wait outside, he responded with "He's gay and might need my help." much to Napoleon's mortification. Between Illya's snickering and snide remarks, it was a wonder that Napoleon could perform at all. He even offering to hold Napoleon's dick, which proved inhibiting rather than otherwise. Eventually after banishing Illya, Napoleon was able to make a sizable contribution. Then they had to wait for the results. 

"Normally a man of your age would not be accepted for donation, but for the fact that you were specifically requested," the doctor stated. "All the numbers are borderline, but acceptable. Under normal circumstances, and these are not normal, you should not expect insemination to work on the first try. So be prepared to donate more than once. Also you'll need to abstain for two days before donating again and we'll contact you when we are ready for your donation." 

Less than a month later Sophie conceived. When they found out there were two fetuses shock began to set in. Whatever Sophie thought impending motherhood would be like, it was not anywhere near reality. Morning sickness had hit with a vengeance. 

"I have no idea what Sophie was thinking," Illya complained. "Having a baby is nothing like playing with dolls. While she might have been capable of handling one child, two at one time might be a bit more then she counted on." Illya paused before going on with the worse. "The doctors are talking about aborting one of them." 

Napoleon was shocked. "What does Sophie say about that?" 

Illya's voice was filled with sadness. "I think she's seriously considering it." 

When Napoleon had agreed to this it was with the understanding that Sophie really wanted children. 

"Napoleon, I love Sophie and I'll love my grandbabies, but I've done my time raising children and although we'll do what we can to help." Illya sighed and shook his head. 

Just what was it that Illya thought he could do, Napoleon wondered. He was only supposed to be the sperm donator. 

mfu 

"Sophie, sweetheart. Can we talk?" 

"Can it wait. I'm really in a hurry. Gonna be late for work and I'd like to keep my job," Sophie said as she pulled up the collar on her coat. 

It had take days for Napoleon to get up his nerve to talk to Sophie and he wasn't about to let the chance slip away. Sophie looked beautiful, her skin glowed and her blonde hair shown, the babies were barely a bump on her figure. 

"How would you like to go to work in style. I have a limo waiting," Napoleon suggested, pleased to see those blue eyes light up. 

They were five minutes into the forty-five minute drive when Napoleon decided to say something. "Sophie, how are things going?" 

"Fine," Sophie said, keeping her eyes on the scenery out the window. 

"Your father mentioned the possibility of having to..." Napoleon gulped, unable to complete the sentence. "That you might have to abort one of the babies." 

Sophie finally turned to look at him. "I should have known Dad would tell you. It was a possibility early on, but one I never seriously considered. I'd regret it for the rest of my life if I did something like that." 

"Even if it meant losing your own life?" 

"Yes, even if. I'm not a child you know. I've thought this thing through, despite what Daddy thinks." 

Napoleon held back a sigh after all how could you argue with that. 

Fifteen minutes later the limo slowed and pulled into a parking area. Sophie sat up straight and swiveled her head from side to side. "Where are we?" 

Napoleon pulled a reluctant Sophie from the car and drew her arm through his. "Did your dad ever tell you about my Aunt Amy?' 

Sophie looked at her watch as they went up in the elevator. 

"You've got plenty of time," Napoleon assured her. The apartment was only a ten minute walk from her job. He opened the door letting her in, and watched as she swiftly roamed from room to room. Enormous living room, formal dining room, a compact eat-in kitchen, two bedrooms, the master came with a sitting area, two baths, one of which connected to a nice size study. Each room was filled with furniture, left to him by his aunt, and covered with drop cloths. 

"Okay, nice place. Why did I have to come see it?" Sophie stood, her hands on her hips, her blue eyes looking at him quizzically through her blonde bangs. 

"Sophie," he started sternly, having practiced what he planned to say. "You are about to have twins and you currently live in a one bedroom apartment. This place has two bedrooms and a study that could be turned into a nursery. And it's only ten minutes from your job." 

Sophie bit her bottom lip. "All very nice, but there is no way I could afford a place like this, even at my salary." 

Napoleon smiled. "I own all this. I have already signed it over to my progeny. You, as their mother, will be in charge of their estate until they come of age." He pulled an envelope containing legal documents from the inside pocket of his jacket and passed it to her. 

Slowly she opened the envelope and read the documents, her eyes widened in shock. "I don't know what to say." 

Napoleon looked at his watch. "You're going to be late?" 

Sophie looked at her's and yelped, she kissed Napoleon on his check and rushed to the door. "We really need to discuss this. Lunch?" When he nodded agreement, she gave him a cheeky grin and raced to her job. 

Napoleon turned out the lights, then pulled out his cell phone. "Illya? I think she's going to go for it." 

mfu 

After the birth of his sons, Napoleon found himself taking better care of himself. Not that he had a choice in the matter. Sophie had soon realized that a one bed-room apartment was much too small, so with some small adjustments had moved into Aunt Amy's. 

What with the children being little, along with the services of a full time nanny, and her working, the arrangement worked well. However, when they reached the age of two, things got a little over-whelming. Two rambunctious boys, so different from one another. One tossing toys all over the place, the other taking things apart. To top things off though the two were twins, they were not identical, and did not get along. Napoleon and Illya were, more often then not, both called upon to mediate their disagreements. 

Going anywhere with the boys was a major production, strollers, diaper bags, toys, and sometimes playpens were necessities. Going to the doctors was a nightmare. Neither boy liked going there and that as much as anything would unite them together. 

Once they started school, their differences became even more pronounced. One preferred sports, the other his studies. Someone was needed to chauffeur them to games and extra curricular activities and more or less keep them out of trouble. That led to Napoleon, as their sperm donor, buying the apartment next to Sophie's, strictly to help out. Contrary to Sophie's original desires, he'd manage to have an almost daily influence on his sons and they in turn had managed to keep him young. While his hair was now completely silvery-grey, his eyes shone brightly making him appear younger than his years and aside from somewhat high blood pressure he was in relatively good health. 

mfu 

The years flew by and it was with great pride that he stood with his sons twenty-four years to the day of their birth, for their double wedding. His sons. Fraternal twins. Alike as night and day. One dark like his father. The other blond like his mother. One out-going, the other shy. 

"Do you Napoleon Petrov Solo take Jennifer Janice Roberts to be your lawful wedded wife?" 

"I do." Napoleon or Nappy, as his mother had dubbed him, had his father's dark hair, his eyes a light hazel that depending on what he wore shone light brown or green. Those eyes behind glasses were focused and full of love on the petite red-head by his side. 

"Do you Jennifer Janice Roberts take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?" 

"I do." J.J. looked up with great pride at the man she was marrying, her long red hair pulled up underneath the white veil. 

The minister turned to the couple standing next to them. "Do you Illya Nickovetch Solo take Jessie James Roberts to be your partner for life?" 

Nicky, his blond hair for once neatly combed, grinned at the red-haired man standing with him, the twin to the woman his brother had just wed. "Hell yeah." 

After the laughter died down, the minister turned to Jessie and repeated the question. "Do you Jessie James Roberts take Illya Nickovetch Solo to be your partner for life?" 

Jess turned to his lover and signed. "With all my heart." 

Satisfied with all the answers the minister gave the final benediction. "By the powers invested in me I pronounce these two couples joined together in Holy Wedlock. You may kiss ..." 

He paused not knowing quite how to finish. It didn't seem to matter. Napoleon and J.J. were wrapped up in each their kiss slow and tender. Illya and Jess were going at it hot and heavy. So much so that someone yelled out. "Get a room." 

Laughter broke out and Jess pulled away, blushing, while Nicky gave their audience a hug grin. 

As the laughter died down the four linked their arms and marched down the aisle to the applause of their two hundred friends and family. 

Napoleon Solo stood out of the way and sipped his champagne as he watched his new daughter and son-in-laws dancing with their parents. Nappy was dancing with his mom, while Nicky twirled his grandmother around on the floor. 

He'd once been a little worried about Nappy when he was younger, because he and Nicky didn't get along and Nappy was the more sensitive twin. But when they started school things changed. Nicky had quite a temper on him and if anyone teased Nappy about his name or said anything hurtful to him, they soon learned the hard way not to. In return Nappy made sure that Nicky's grades stayed up. And when Nicky came out, Nappy was one of his staunchest supporters. Somehow they made it through the teenage years, finished college, and met the loves of their lives. If Napoleon thought they were marrying a bit too early, he kept that thought to himself. 

"It's hard to believe that our little boys are all grown up." Illya chuckled into his ear. "Remember when we were that young?" 

"We were never that young," Napoleon stated, thinking about the mistakes he'd made with his love life and hoping his kids did not do the same. But then again his kids were smarter then he'd been. "Do you have any regrets?" 

Illya thought about it, reading what Napoleon was saying without actually saying it. "Not really. Catherine gave me two children, whom I love dearly and she never once asked me to give up you. Sophie gave me grandchildren." Illya shrugged, then a one of his rare half smiles lit his face. "Relatively speaking I can't say that I have."


End file.
